PAGE 4
The Second-Story Man
by
MRS. AUSTIN.
[Whispering.] What happened to him?
JIM.
A street car killed him.
MRS. AUSTIN.
Oh!
JIM.
Run over his chest, ma’am. I came home at night, and they told me, and I near went out of my mind. Can you think what it was to see him . . . with his eyes starting out of his head like, and his beautiful little body all mashed flat . . .
MRS. AUSTIN.
[Wildly.] Oh, spare me!
JIM.
I told you it wouldn’t be a pretty story. Do you think maybe you wouldn’t take to drink if you saw a sight like that? [Sinking back.] Since then I’ve looked for work, but I haven’t cared much. Only sometimes I’ve thought I’d like to meet that young lawyer . . .
MRS. AUSTIN.
[Starting up.] Oh!
JIM.
Yes, it all began with him. But I don’t know . . . they’d only jug me. Anyway, tonight I was sitting in a saloon with two fellows that I had met. One of them was a second-story man . . . a fellow that climbs up porches and fire- escapes. And I heard him telling about a haul he’d made, and I said to myself: “There’s a job for me . . . I’ll be a second-story man.” And I tried it . . . but you see I didn’t do very well. I’m not good for much, I guess, any more.
AUSTIN.
[Enters left, revolver in hand; stands watching, unobserved.] Good heavens!
MRS. AUSTIN.
You can’t tell. You may have better success than you look for.
JIM.
No . . . there’s nothing can help me. I’m for the scrap heap.
MRS. AUSTIN.
[Eagerly.] Wait and see. You are a man . . . you can be helped yet . . .
AUSTIN.
[Coming forward.] What does this mean?
JIM.
[Starts wildly and reaches for revolver.] Ha!
AUSTIN.
[Raising weapon.] Holdup your hands!
MRS. AUSTIN.
[Rushing forward.] No. Stop!
AUSTIN.
What do you mean?
MRS. AUSTIN.
I say stop! I promised him his freedom!
AUSTIN.
My dear . . .
MRS. AUSTIN.
Give me the weapon.
AUSTIN.
Why . . .
MRS. AUSTIN.
Give it to me. [Takes revolver.] Now sit down.
JIM.
[Has been staring wildly at AUSTIN.] My God, it’s the lawyer fellow!
MRS. AUSTIN.
Yes, it is he.
AUSTIN.
What does all this mean?
MRS. AUSTIN.
Look at this man!
AUSTIN.
[Staring.] Why?
MRS. AUSTIN.
Don’t you know him?
AUSTIN.
No.
MRS. AUSTIN.
Look carefully. [Turns up light.] Have you never seen him before?
AUSTIN.
Never that I can recall. What is his name?
MRS. AUSTIN.
I don’t know. [To
JIM.
] What is it?
JIM.
Humph! [Hesitating.] He could find out, anyway. Jim Faraday.
AUSTIN.
Faraday . . . it sounds familiar.
JIM.
[Grimly.] You’ve served the trick on a good many, I guess.
AUSTIN.
[To
MRS. AUSTIN.
] What does he mean?
JIM.
Don’t you remember the Sisters’ Hospital? The fellow that had his eye burned out in the big explosion?
AUSTIN.
[Startled.] Oh!
JIM.
[Sneeringly.] Ah, yes!
AUSTIN.
You are the man?
JIM.
I’m the man.
MRS. AUSTIN.
Harvey, you took this man some paper to sign.
AUSTIN.
Yes . . . I remember.
MRS. AUSTIN.
Did you tell him what was in it?
AUSTIN.
[Hesitates.] Why . . .